I’m going to do my bit for the war effort and give Hitler what for. I can’t sit around in the countryside any longer doing nothing when Jimmy has sacrificed his life. The dark cloud still lingers and I’m really not much use to anyone these days. Certainly not little Lara, who to my shame has been neglected of my love and attention and instead looks to Mother to care for her. I have tried to feed her and bathe her but I feel she senses my sadness and becomes fretful, until Mother lifts her from my arms to soothe her. Mother says I must pull myself together and find something useful to do now that Lara is nearly a year old, so I’m returning to London to work in the factory where Jimmy used to sweep the floors. Only I shan’t be sweeping floors, I’m going to make parachutes and inflatable dinghies, and all sorts of other useful things to help the soldiers who are still fighting. I couldn’t do anything to help my darling Jimmy, so this will go some small way to make up for that. My sweet baby girl, Lara, is to stay with Mother and Father here in Tindledale, as London isn’t safe for her, and I will come here on the train to visit her on my days off. It’s going to be such a wrench to leave her, but it really is for the best. My life would most certainly be over if she were to be taken from me too …

Grace let out a long puff of air and turned the page. She was sitting on the carpet in Connie’s storage unit, reading more of her diary entries and feeling very uneasy about the change in tone. It was as if Connie had hardened and packed her emotions away now that her life was wholly determined by her mother … something Grace could definitely identify with. Connie certainly wasn’t doing what she really wanted to, as Grace had also found a piece of paper tucked inside the pages of one of the Variety magazines in the hatbox with the following heartbreaking words written on it in Connie’s handwriting. Grace was sure that Connie had been crying when she wrote the note, as the faint outline of faded little splatter marks could still be seen down one side.

My heart is broken without you, Jimmy, and to my shame there have been times when I have contemplated joining you, my darling, for I have not an ounce of vim or vigour these days and find myself giving in to Mother’s will. Although I do know that she has Lara’s best interests at heart and that is what matters most. Perhaps the light will return for me when I’m in London doing my bit for the war effort – I truly hope so. I wish with all my being that I could keep Lara with me but Mother will not hear of it. She says Lara looks to her as her mother and I understand that she does because I have not been able to care for her properly. So it is probably for the best this way as nobody in London will know the shame I’ve brought on my family. Mother also says that if I have any love at all for Lara then she must always be kept a secret and that I should refer to her as my young sister so she is not tainted as a child born out of wedlock. I must do that for her and not put my own selfish needs before hers. But our darling Lara will never be a secret for me because she is a part of you, and I will always hold her in my heart for she’s the most beautiful baby I have ever seen, and with the sweetest temperament. Her eyes are emerald green and framed with thick, dark lashes just like yours, my love, and her hair too; ebony curls, so soft and silky. I love to brush her beautiful baby hair but Mother says the curls are too long and must be cut off short if her hair is ever to thicken …

A week had passed since Ellis first arrived, and Grace had managed to go to the café again with him twice more before he had left to travel to Berlin for the next step of his business trip. She had really enjoyed those visits to the café. The normality of them. And his great company too, of course. It was nice to spend time with someone who didn’t know anything about her real life caring for Cora, or how she had broken apart after finding Matthew in bed with the Perky Yoga One. It meant she was free to be whoever she wanted to be, if only for the short slice of time that it took to chat and for her to drink hot chocolate with a tower of whipped cream on top. And Grace was harbouring a secret, in that she had eked out that cream, spooning in really tiny mouthfuls so as to have as long as possible in the café with Ellis, because who knew when she would get to do that again? She’d made an effort to go to the café by herself too, but it really wasn’t the same, with Cheryl, the waitress, pumping her for titbits about Ellis and his fabulous life in New York. And if, by any chance, he had dumped his girlfriend yet?

When Ellis had properly catalogued unit 28, he had been in awe of Connie’s jewels and had carefully photographed a selection of the key pieces before he left, to email on to his contact in the Fine and Antique Jewel department. He had also examined and confirmed that the paintings in Connie’s unit were genuine, and that she was the probable owner of them too. It was a tenuous link, but Grace had stumbled across a packet of old photos in one of the suitcases, and there was a photo of Connie standing in the doorway of a veranda at the powder pink villa, with the wonderful Venice Salute painting visible on the wall behind her. So, after consulting with another art expert at the auction house to double-check the paintings’ veracity, Ellis had notified the legal people in the Bona Vacantia government department, where the proceeds of Connie’s unclaimed estate were held, and organised for the paintings to be securely transported to the vaults of a private bank in London for safekeeping. Because Larry had nearly had a coronary on being told they could be worth upwards of fifty thousand pounds each. And there were ten of them in unit 28!

Grace had read more of Connie’s diaries and notes over the last week and had discovered that she had met an American soldier a year or so after she returned to London to do her bit for the war effort. Connie had volunteered at the American Red Cross, which held dances to boost soldiers’ morale; it was at one of these dances – where she served doughnuts and coffee and offered to sew loose buttons back onto the soldiers’ uniforms – that she had met him. Grace’s heart had soared on finding out Connie had found some happiness in the months after her mother had forced her to part from baby Lara.

And where was baby Lara now?

If she had died, then where was she buried? Was it here in England? Or was Connie allowed to be with her, later, after the war ended? Did Connie’s controlling mother relent and let her take Lara to Italy? It was a possibility … somewhere suitably far away so as not to embarrass her parents in front of their influential friends in London (Grace had read all about Connie’s mother maligning her over this), and it would certainly have been perfectly respectable to pass Lara off as her young sister … so maybe that’s what happened and Lara was buried in Italy. Or, Grace pondered on another scenario; it was one that she had considered already, and it could just be wishful thinking, but what if Lara was still alive? What if she was still living in Italy and simply estranged from her mother, Connie? And just didn’t know that she had died? It was entirely possible.

Grace cast a glance around unit 28. Taking it all in again. The way it was set out. Like a glamorous bedroom presenting the contents in the best possible light. It was as if it had been prepared especially … like a stage, a showcase of a lifetime for someone to discover and, ultimately, inherit. What if Connie had made it look all lovely like this for her daughter, Lara? Grace allowed herself some time to ponder on the possible scenario, her heart lifting at the prospect of finding Lara and chatting to her about Connie. But then her heart sank on remembering that Connie hadn’t left a will. Why wouldn’t she? If all this was for Lara, then it just didn’t make any sense for Connie not to have done so; surely she would have made sure Lara knew all these beautiful things were waiting here for her. Not to mention the valuable artwork, and Connie’s home in Blackheath, for it all added up to an extremely valuable inheritance.

Grace glanced at the screen on her mobile; seeing that it was almost time for an afternoon cuppa, she put Connie’s diary away and closed her unit for another day before heading over to the office. She pushed open the door and almost jumped right out of her skin when she was greeted with a rainbow stream of party poppers. Red, yellow, blue and green confetti shot high up in the air before cascading down onto her head and shoulders.

‘Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Grace, happy birthday to you,’ chorused Betty and Larry, and Betty’s friend, Maggie, from the knit and natter group and who worked in the coroner’s office. A silver and purple hologram banner with ‘Happy Birthday’ on it was pinned to the wall by Grace’s desk, and Betty was holding an enormous triple-layered birthday cake smothered in pastel pink icing and big ‘three’- and ‘five’-shaped candles on top.

‘Remember to make a wish, sweetheart.’ Betty put the cake down on Grace’s desk and clapped her hands together in delight.

‘Wow. Oh my goodness. Thank you,’ Grace said, momentarily dazed. It was her birthday today and – until now – it had been just like any other day. Her mother had forgotten; Grace figured she must have, as she hadn’t mentioned it, not even to say happy birthday. Of course, Grace appreciated that Cora wasn’t mobile and so couldn’t go out herself and buy a card, and she really didn’t expect that, but an acknowledgment would have been nice. Phil hadn’t been at the bus stop either, and she hadn’t liked to arrive at work and announce it herself to Larry and Betty, so this wonderful surprise felt even more special. ‘It’s amazing,’ she beamed, cupping her hands up under her chin and willing herself not to get teary as she looked at Larry and Betty, their kindness emanating from them and making her feel overcome with emotion.

Grace looped her hair up into a quick bun and after closing her eyes and making a wish – Please let Mum win the scratchcard jackpot so we can both be happy – her at the Savoy, and me on a spa break with a cocktail in one hand and my feet firmly up on a lounger – she blew out the candles. Larry, Betty and Maggie all clapped, and after Betty had handed them each an exceedingly generous slice of cake on a pink paper plate with a matching napkin, she fished in her handbag and pulled out an envelope.

‘A present from Larry and me,’ she said, handing the envelope to Grace.

‘Oh, thank you so much,’ Grace said, swallowing her mouthful of cake and then putting the plate on her desk. ‘But you really didn’t need—’

‘Nonsense!’ Larry stepped in to give her a hug. ‘You’re our Girl Friday, a breath of fresh air around here, and we really appreciate all the work that you do.’

‘And we are very fond of you, love,’ Betty added, bustling Larry out of the way so that she could give Grace a hug. ‘Now, open the envelope.’

Grace did as she was told. Inside the envelope was a gorgeous birthday card with a picture on the front of a glistening Mediterranean sea beside a terracotta-coloured brick cottage with pretty pink bougainvillea tumbling all over one side of it.

Grace opened the card and unfolded an A4 piece of paper that was tucked inside. Scanning the words, her pulse quickened as she took it all in.

Italy!

A holiday to Italy.

She stared at the boarding pass and itinerary in her hand.

‘I can’t go to Italy.’

‘Oh yes you can, sweetheart.’ It was Jamie coming through the office door with a smile on his face the size of a slice of watermelon.

‘What are you doing here?’ she beamed, dashing forward to give him a big hug.

‘Larry and Betty invited me,’ he said, pressing a big bunch of bright purple, pink and orange chrysanthemums into her hand before giving her an enormous hug.

‘But how? When? You don’t know Larry and Betty,’ she gasped, barely able to take it all in. She glanced over at her employers to see them both now looking very conspiratorial.

‘Don’t blame the lad,’ Larry stepped forward. ‘Betty and I had been thinking for some time now that a little break would do you good. You’re run off your feet working here and caring for your mother too.’ He paused, and Grace glanced at the floor momentarily. ‘And so when Jamie here,’ he put a hand on Jamie’s back, ‘called in that day to go with you to check out Connie’s address in Blackheath, we got chatting while he was waiting for you and—’

‘Hatched a plan!’ Betty took over explaining. ‘We know you’ve found an affinity with poor Connie, and Larry saw how fascinated you were with the painting of Venice inside her unit, and then reading all about the powder pink villa on the hilltop in her diary, not to mention the other beauty spots she mentions … and so that got us thinking.’ Smiling, she put an arm around Larry and indicated for Jamie to come and stand on the other side of her. ‘You might like to experience it all for yourself first hand. Go and see where Connie lived in Italy, and also see if you can find out a bit more about her … talk to her friends and what have you.’

‘But …’ Grace faltered. She couldn’t go to Italy on her own. Not to the airport. How would she get there? And she certainly couldn’t go on an aeroplane by herself and then navigate her way around a foreign country. Just the thought of it was making her pulse quicken and her top lip glisten with anxiety sweat. Ah, but maybe that’s why Jamie is here: to let me know he’s coming too. ‘It’s a really kind idea,’ she started, not wanting to sound ungrateful, ‘but what about Mum? I can’t leave her on her own.’

‘Yes you can. It’s all sorted. I’ve got loads of annual leave left and if I don’t take it I’ll lose it … so I’m looking after Cora while you’re away,’ Jamie nodded.

‘What? But she wouldn’t have it when I spoke to her about the spa weekend.’

‘And thank God she wouldn’t, because that would have scuppered the whole surprise if you had gone ahead and booked the spa break instead.’ Jamie shook his head. ‘Plus I went to a lot of trouble to find your passport. Why would you keep it at the back of your knicker drawer? And that’s another thing, lady, I’m taking you knicker shopping pronto, as we need to replace those washed-out horrors you have clogging up all the space in your drawers.’ He pulled a face.

‘What? Did you actually rummage through my bedroom?’ Grace asked, flabbergasted. She’d had no idea and felt a tinge of embarrassment on knowing that Jamie had now seen the extent of her apathy over self-care. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had bought new knickers, or indeed anything much for herself apart from food and essential toiletries.

‘Of course!’ Jamie shrugged covertly. ‘How else were we going to book the flights? I know your date of birth and all that, but I wanted to check you in too and get you a nice window seat, so there’s no backing out now.’ And he grinned so hard it made his whole face glow like a lit paper lantern about to soar right up into the air.

‘I can’t believe it. Nobody has ever done anything like this for me before.’

‘I know. And that’s another reason why we wanted to,’ he said, and Betty, Larry and Maggie all nodded their agreement.

‘But …’ Grace started again, and Jamie leant forward on the pretext of giving her a hug so he could whisper in her ear.

‘It’ll be fine. Promise you. One step in front of the other. Golden, remember?’ And he gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

‘And you can see for yourself where Connie lived; you never know … some of the neighbours might be able to tell us more about her and may even lead you to find a relative, someone to inherit all the contents in unit 28. You’d be doing me a favour if we can actually shift it all and open up the unit to another customer,’ Larry said. ‘So it’s really a business trip in more ways than one, because Ellis’s friend in the jewellery department at the auction house called me and said the items in Connie’s jewellery box are very valuable – good job I’ve stored them in the safe.’ He paused to chuckle. ‘Yes, he said they are one-offs. Bespoke. They are all of Italian design and made in the 1950s and 60s. And they didn’t have computer records in those days, so he said you’re best off going to the actual jewellery shop yourself to see what you can find out and ask to look at the paper records. He did phone them himself and at first they got a bit worked up at the mention of an auction house and went on about client secrets and stuff, but then called him back and said that they would be happy to see you when you visited …’

‘And Ellis is going to meet you at the airport, love,’ Betty added. ‘He has to visit some clients in Italy anyway, so it’s easy for him to tie in some time off afterwards to spend with you on this adventure. Did you know he can speak a bit of Italian?’ Grace shook her head, feeling bamboozled, for it was like a whirlwind … she so desperately wanted to fly off to Italy and experience another, more exciting life, if only for a short while, and with Ellis too, so she could be whoever she wanted to be again. But, well … was it really even possible? Jamie might have managed to persuade Cora for the time being but, knowing how her mind worked, Grace knew that could all change in an instance if she felt so inclined, so was it even worth Grace getting her hopes up?

‘I didn’t either, but fancy that,’ Betty carried on. ‘He’s a dark horse, our Ellis.’

‘And I’ve managed to find out some interesting pieces of the puzzle too.’ It was Betty’s friend, Maggie, who spoke next as she fished inside a lovely retro cloth knitting bag with wooden handles and a bold orange flower print.

‘Ooh, really,’ Grace said, trying to calm down. She couldn’t deny the bubble of excitement building inside her, but did she dare take – she glanced again at the boarding pass – six days off from caring for Cora to actually go away to Italy? Could she really do it? And how on earth had Jamie managed to swing it with Cora? Her mother had always absolutely refused to even discuss it whenever Grace had broached the idea of taking time off with her.

‘Yes, I’ve got a copy of Constance’s marriage certificate right here,’ Maggie said, patting her iron-grey bob and lifting a pair of glasses that were hanging on a colourful beaded chain around her neck, up on to her face, before unfolding a long piece of paper. ‘Married in January 1946, so shortly after the end of World War II. She married Giovanni di Donato in Marylebone Register Office in London.’ Maggie showed Grace the marriage certificate with the words written on in old-fashioned swirly cursive handwriting. Grace touched an index finger to it, imagining Connie doing likewise with the original certificate. ‘I wasn’t able to find a death certificate for Giovanni …’

‘Oh?’ Grace said hopefully.

‘Ah, but don’t get your hopes up as he might very well have died in Italy,’ Maggie surmised.

‘And Lara?’

‘The same, I’m afraid. If she died in Italy too, then it isn’t impossible to find out, but may take me a little longer. I’m sure you’ll be able to find out more when you visit as there’s bound to be someone there who knew Connie, and if she did take Lara to Italy after the war, then she would have gone to school, had friends, hung out in cafés eating gelato. You must leave no stone unturned, so I expect to hear that you’ve visited and sampled every gelato shop within a ten-mile radius of the powder pink villa.’ They all laughed. ‘Now, getting back to the certificate – the most interesting thing on it is Giovanni’s profession and address. See here.’ And she pointed to the piece of paper where it said that he was a soldier and living at an address in Woolwich. Repository Road, to be precise.

‘Could it be the American soldier she met at the Red Cross dance?’ Grace suggested hopefully, thinking how wonderful it would have been if Connie had found happiness to help ease her pain on being parted from Lara when she returned to London to do her bit for the war effort.

‘Yes, it very well could be,’ Maggie nodded. ‘Perhaps an Italian-American GI, given his gorgeously romantic name. They were very popular with the British women during the war,’ she chuckled saucily.

‘But hadn’t the war ended by then? If Giovanni was an American GI, then would he have still been in Britain in 1946?’ Grace checked.

‘Oh yes, it’s quite possible … some GIs weren’t demobbed until well into 1946,’ Maggie assured her. ‘And we may be able to find out more from his army records.’

‘Is it really possible to do that?’ Grace asked, thinking about Jimmy too. She would like to find out how he had met his fate, as a mark of respect to honour the sacrifice he had made.

‘Yes. I can certainly try.’

‘And Ellis is extremely excited.’ Larry dipped into the conversation. ‘He’s now convinced that Giovanni is the artist who painted the pictures we found in the unit, plus the ones discovered in the attic of the house in …’

‘Repository Road in Woolwich!’ Grace exclaimed in unison with Larry.

‘And if he was an American GI, then that could explain the other paintings that surfaced in America – Ellis told me about them too. Maybe Mr Donato painted them before he came over to England during the Second World War,’ she said, processing all the pieces to see if they fitted together, and so far they certainly seemed to. It was too much of a coincidence for the address in Woolwich near the army barracks to crop up twice with a link to the paintings.

‘Well, it’s certainly an exciting mystery … like something out of one of those true-crime documentaries on the telly,’ Betty chimed.

‘I certainly hope not!’ Larry puffed. ‘Nobody has died.’

‘Apart from Connie, that we know of,’ Jamie chipped in, stating the obvious.

‘And Jimmy. And his mother too, she died in the Blitz,’ Grace added, remembering the poignant passage that she had read in Connie’s diary, written when she had first arrived back in London to work in the factory.

I went to Jimmy’s home today in Deptford for old times’ sake and … well, I don’t really know why, but I guess I was hoping to see his mother, to pass on my condolences to her and maybe tell her about Lara, her granddaughter, for I feel certain she would be overjoyed by the news of her. It would have been so nice to talk about Jimmy and to feel close to him again. But I was met with the most dreadful sight. Rubble piled up high where Jimmy’s home once stood. The whole of Franklin Street has disappeared. A man was there, rooting through the debris, trying to salvage whatever he could, and he told me the street took a direct hit. Poor Maureen at number 27 didn’t stand a chance as she never made it to the shelter in time after doubling back to fetch her tabby cat, Mischief. It was such a sorry sight and I came away with tears in my eyes but took comfort in knowing that Jimmy will have his mother, Maureen, with him now. I then went over to the hilly field section of Greenwich Park and picked a big bunch of wild flowers, just like Jimmy did for me when we were courting. After tying a jolly yellow ribbon from the haberdashery shop around them, I went back to where Jimmy had lived and left the flowers there, saying a silent prayer as I placed them in the rubble. A flash of bright colour in amongst all the grey, from Lara and me, for the father and grandmother that she will never meet.

‘Oh, you know what I mean,’ Betty said, bringing Grace’s thoughts back to the present day, ‘it’s like the bit where they try to work out how everything happened … anyway, our Grace is going to have a terrific time in Italy being our very own Miss Marple. And that’s the main thing.’

‘Let’s not get carried away, dear. Grace isn’t going to investigate a murder!’ Larry shook his head with a worried look on his face and then, after pondering momentarily, he looked at Grace and added, ‘Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. I won’t live with myself if anything happens to you out there, my dear.’

‘She’ll be fine,’ Jamie said keenly. ‘Grace will have the time of her life and come back feeling all refreshed and wonderful, and with a glorious tan to boot. Plus she’ll have Ellis with her, so it’s not as if she’ll actually be properly on her own …’

They all looked at Grace as if waiting for her to sanction the trip. She took a deep breath and after breaking into a big grin, she gave her verdict.

‘Yes. A 100 per cent yes! And thank you,’ she said, with far more conviction than she actually felt inside, but the thought of going to Italy for six days was just too wonderful an opportunity to miss out on. When else might she get the chance? And her mother was only going to get older and more dependent, and so this could very well be a chance of a lifetime, certainly for Grace during Cora’s lifetime. And, in all honesty, Grace had been feeling for a while now that enough was enough. Bernie had been on the phone again last night complaining because Cora had called her ‘in a right state’, saying that Grace was ‘threatening to leave me all on my own just so she can have a dirty weekend with that poor man of hers’. So Grace had had it up to here with being the family doormat, taking care of their mother single-handedly, and had told Bernie so. She had no idea how Jamie had managed to persuade Cora, though he had always had a knack of appeasing her, but what Grace did know was that she would be eternally grateful to him.

It was time.

Time for Grace to move on.

Time for Grace to take back a bit of life for herself.

And time for her to stop punishing herself for feeling that she was to blame for what Matthew did. That he slept with another woman in their bed because Grace wasn’t enough. Not sexy enough. Not perky enough. Or interesting enough. Funny. Cute. Or clever enough. No, he chose to cheat on Grace, shatter her love for him in the worst way possible. And that was wholly down to him. Some time away would give Grace the chance to properly clear her head and cement her new view of her life. So she was going to call her counsellor and talk through some practical strategies for the trip and then focus on packing her suitcase and feeling excited … because Grace Quinn was enough.

And she was going to have new knickers.

And she was going to Italy.

Fantastico! As they say in Italian …